Shiying Middle School, Chiba City. Class 3, Grade 8. Math class.

The scorching sun blazed overhead. Cicadas outside chirped nonstop, their buzz sounding like a grumpy mutter: *“I’m melting out here!”*

Mr. Xia Fei’s voice—chirpy as a sparrow’s—drifted like a nightmare past every student’s ear, weaving a hypnotic lullaby of drowsiness.

A seasoned math teacher, Xia Fei had already lulled one-third of the class to sleep.

*Eighty-eight today,* he thought with quiet satisfaction. *Solid improvement. Last time, at least half were out cold.*

July’s heat poured through the windows. Ceiling fans wobbled precariously, looking ready to plummet and saw off a student’s head any second. Useless against the swelter. Even Xia Fei fanned his flushed face desperately.

No choice—this was the county’s only middle school. Most kids were just ticking off compulsory education boxes. The serious students? All in the elite class next door.

Then—Xia Fei’s sharp eyes caught it: one student’s head drooping straight down.

Teacher instinct flared. *Phone.*

“Wang Fugui! Stand up!” Xia Fei barked.

Sleeping? Fine. Phones? Unforgivable. His last line in the sand.

Silence crashed over the room. Napping students jolted upright, terrified to miss the juiciest gossip.

Wang Fugui stood, head hanging low.

Xia Fei, already done with teaching, clutched his textbook and strode over.

“Hand it over.”

No reply. Still staring down.

*Huh?*

Just as irritation flared—Xia Fei saw it. Phone flat on the desk. Head never lifted.

*Still reading?!*

Humiliation burned hot. *SLAM!* His palm hit the desk.

Wang Fugui flinched violently, finally looking up.

“How many times? Skip the lesson, sleep—I get it. But breaking rules? Disturbing others? Wang Fugui, the whole class is wasting time because of you! Do you even—”

*Sob… sob…*

Xia Fei turned mid-rant—and froze.

Tears streamed down Wang Fugui’s upturned face. Sobs swelled. He buried his head, weeping uncontrollably.

Panic seized Xia Fei. *Since when do kids cry from a scolding?!*

The words *“corporal punishment”* flashed in his mind. His face went pale.

“W-why are you crying?”

Wang Fugui pointed a trembling finger at the screen, eyes wounded.

Xia Fei: “…”

*HE’S STILL LOOKING AT THE PHONE?!?!*

Speechless with rage, he squinted. A web novel.

Now the whole class was stunned silent. *Wang Fugui doesn’t seem… slow.*

“Love it so much you cried?!” Xia Fei muttered, stomping back to his chair.

“Wang Fugui—read it. Aloud. To the whole class. Lesson’s canceled. Today, we listen to *your* novel.”

He gulped water, settling in. He’d enjoyed this before—like that confiscated love letter. Public shaming had its charms.

Wang Fugui wiped tears, numbly lifted the phone.

“—Your words, falling one by one like starlight. Gazing alone at the night sky, I fear being swallowed by its endless dark. The sky with Ryota shifted endlessly; with Kaori, brilliant yet uneasy. What does the sky look like… when I gaze at it with you?”

Flat. Monotone. Slightly grating.

Snickers faded. The classroom stilled.

Amid the heat, the words wove through them—soft, vivid, stirring forgotten echoes. Even Xia Fei froze, breath caught.

…

Kosei, redeemed by Kaori, reclaimed his piano dreams. On stage, he and the violinist he secretly loved delivered a flawless duet.

Xia Fei’s chest tightened.

*Youth was rash.* He’d been a dreamer too—guitar in hand, chasing music stardom.

His father called it foolish. Smashed the guitar mid-argument.

Enraged, Xia Fei fled to Beijing. Bar gigs. Auditions. Contests. All failures.

Three years later—his father’s death.

Returning home, he saw it: the shattered guitar, painstakingly patched with tape, hanging quietly on the wall.

His father had regretted it daily. Waited. Hoped. Too late.

Xia Fei burned the guitar at the grave. Took the teaching post. His father’s wish.

Now—watching Kosei break free, shine on stage—memories surged. Tears welled.

“T-teacher…?”

Wang Fugui’s voice cut off. Xia Fei looked up.

The entire class stared at *him*.

The teacher who scolded crying… was now crying too.

*Ding-dong!* The dismissal bell rang.

They’d listened to a web novel… for a full class.

This novel…

Was dangerously addictive.

*Xia Fei’s spine went cold.* He’d meant to humiliate Wang Fugui—but trapped everyone instead.

Not just the fresh, immersive prose. Not just the heart-tugging story. Together? Impossible to stop.

“This incident… forget it,” Xia Fei said, clearing his throat. He patted Wang Fugui’s shoulder, feigning calm.

“Tell me the novel’s name.”

“Your Lie in April,” Wang Fugui answered honestly.